


Three Words

by Areiton



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Domestic Fluff, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, M/M, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-18 21:26:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12396546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: Inspired by thisgifset and requested by my lovelygeekprincess.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this [gif](https://areiton.tumblr.com/post/166089887343) set and requested by my lovely [geekprincess](http://archiveofourown.org/users/GeekPrincess/pseuds/GeekPrincess).

 

 

“What do you want for dinner?” he demanded, not even letting Derek answer before he was prattling off options, only half listening as he pulled on a flannel and patted his pockets absently for his keys.

“I don’t care, Stiles,” Derek said, all exasperated amusement, “Just pick something up.”

That made him stop and Stiles grinned, his head tipped back as he considered. “So I could get the ceviche from Poblanos, the fries from the diner and some cookies from the bakery?”

Derek made a huff of annoyance and shot back. “Something we’ll both eat, jackass.”

“Then maybe gimme some input, dickhead,” Stiles answered agreeably.

Derek sighed. “Get whatever,” he said, finally. “I trust you.”

He hung up before Stiles could respond and Stiles muttered a curse, shoving his feet into his Chucks and dialing the little Italian bistro Derek liked.

Looked like tonight’s strategy session cum movie night would be complemented with lasagna and cheese ravioli.

Oooh, and those stuffed mushroom things Derek liked so much. Stiles grinned and headed across town.

*

Stiles wasn’t actually into home decor. But this was _Derek_ and for the first time since Derek had met him, he was staying somewhere that wasn’t burnt, condemned, and/or also housing escaped felons.

So he was going to decorate the damn place and Derek would get used to it.

Which is how he ended up in Derek’s new apartment, unpacking boxes and considering where the hell he should hang pictures of the pack, and texting Derek incessantly.

The whole adjunct professor thing he was doing was hot as hell, but it sure was inconvenient when Stiles wanted his opinion.

 

**From Stiles:**

**do u care where the pictures go?**

 

**From Stiles:**

**put all of them in the hall, cept the pack pic Erica did for Christmas.**

 

**From Stiles:**

**where do you want your dishes.**

 

**From Stiles:**

**nvm.**

 

**From Stiles:**

**isaac helpe dme move the furniture. Living room didn’t make sense the way you had it.**

 

**From Stiles:**

**do you wanna do the blue in the front or back bath?**

 

**From Stiles:**

**i set up your workout shit and weapons in the first spare bedroom.**

 

**From Stiles:**

**How do you like your books, alphabetic or by category?**

 

He hummed softly as he unpacked and set up the apartment and measured the windows for curtains. He’d drag Derek to do that with him, since they were Derek’s windows.

He was sipping a beer and contemplating ordering pizza for dinner when his phone buzzed to life.

 

_From Derek:_

_You know I don’t actually care what you do, right? I trust you._

 

Stiles smiled, a fond little tilt of his lips as he drank his beer and the phone buzzed again.

 

_From Derek:_

_But don’t fucking touch my books, Stilinski._

 

He laughed and snapped a picture of the neatly ordered bookshelves and sent it to Derek with the demand for food.

*

“You know it’s not forever, right?”

Stiles stared at Derek, and felt his world shift. The wolf was watching as he packed, and after all the fighting with the pack, he had expected Derek to fight him on this, but he wasn’t.

He leaned against the window sill and nodded at the laundry basket. “Your hoodie is in there.”

Stiles made a broken noise and Derek caught him as fell into the older man’s arms, caught him close and held him up, shushing him and petting his hair.

“I’m coming back,” Stiles muttered. “This isn’t forever. It’s just a year and a day.”

“I know,” Derek said and Stiles surged up, their lips meeting in a kiss that was desperate and sloppy and Derek hummed, licked at Stiles lips and Stiles opened for him on a low moan, needy and hungry.

They kissed until the tires crunched on the drive and Derek pushed him away, just a little.

Stiles grabbed his bag and wiped his eyes. “I’m coming back and we’re going to finish that,” he snapped and Derek smiled.

“I know.”

He swallowed his sob and stared, helplessly. “How can you know?” he whispered, because _he_ barely knew. He was clinging to that date like it meant something and he knew it didn’t.

Derek smiled, and kissed him lightly. “I trust you,” he said simply and Stiles went to join the druids waiting for him, and clutched that like a promise.

*

It was a Monday, and early enough in the day that the parking lot looked like a deserted ghost town as he walked up to the door. For a moment, he hesitated but he turned the key in his pocket and took a deep breath.

He couldn’t stop his hands from shaking as he unlocked the door and stepped inside. There was a moment of relief when he saw Derek’s familiar bookcases and the couch Stiles had bullied him into buying, the mug on the table that he knew Derek prefered when he was being lazy.

“You’re here,” a quiet voice murmured and Stiles turned.

It had been a long time. The druids had kept him in the nematons for longer than either had anticipated and there was always that fear, that he wouldn’t still be here. That Derek wouldn’t still be waiting.

But he’s here, a little grey in his stumble, new wrinkles around his eyes, and a smile that is familiar, even now.

It’s been four years and four days since he last saw Derek, since he was in Beacon Hills, and he knew he had changed.

He was here. Before seeing Scott, before seeing his father, he was here.

“I’m here,” he murmured and Derek smiled, reaching for him.

They fell into bed together in a rush of hands and lips, of Derek gasping his name and Stiles groaning into his mouth, shedding clothes and biting promises into skin.

When Derek pressed him into the sheets, Stiles gleamed pale against his sheets. His skin was littered with scars and tattoos and Derek’s hands skimmed over them, making Stiles writhe under him as power sparked along his skin.

“You waited for me,” Stiles panted, groaning as Derek dipped down and licked his cock, nuzzling before he swallowed it down and Stiles shouted. “ _Derek”_

He felt Derek hum around him and his hips shifted, tiny thrusts as he fucked up into Derek’s wet mouth and stared down at him.

“Why the hell would you wait for me?” he demanded, and Derek pulled off with a wet popping noise that sounded loud in the quiet apartment. His fingers brushed against Stiles hole, and for a while, as he careful spread him open and fucked him slow, Stiles didn’t think, didn’t demand anything but Derek, everything he would give.

Later, when Derek slumped over him, sweaty and shaking and smiling, Stiles pressed a kiss into his temple and murmured, like he can’t quite believe it.

“You _waited_ for me.”

Derek shrugged, drawing a triskle in the puddle of come on his belly. “You said you’d come back.”

Stiles stared at him, wild eyed and lost. Derek smiled, a tiny familiar thing that carried him through four years of training and loneliness. “I trust you,” he said, easily, and Stiles shuddered and kissed him, needing the taste of those words against his lips.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The pack was passive aggressive. They hadn’t fought, hadn’t done anything violent enough that it would warrant the Hale pack retaliating.

Until now.

“I don’t trust them,” Stiles murmured and Derek laughed, soft enough that it didn’t carry to the other pack, across the clearing.

“That’s because you aren’t an idiot,” he said and Stiles flashed a smirk.

They were still finding their way with each other. They had moments, when Derek was withdrawn and quiet, and Stiles couldn’t figure out who he was.

Moments when magic flared along his skin, lit up the tattoos etched into his skin, made the triskelion on his wrist gleam like a beacon, and Derek stared at him like he didn’t know Stiles anymore.

But there was moments, when they laughed and Stiles curled into Derek on the couch, when it felt like no time had passed. When Stiles ran with the pack, the moon full and bright in the Preserve and it felt like he had always been here.

But they were still learning how to be around each other, where the boundaries with the other lay, and this--he had been home for five months and it was the first time a threat had come up that required more than Derek snarling and threatening.

Four years was a long time, for a pack to build a reputation, Stiles learned.

But this. The threats hadn’t hit a level of violence that they couldn’t ignore, not _yet_ but they were impossible to ignore.

“If we fight, we’re going to take damage,” Stiles told Derek, hunched over the table where their plans were sprawled, and Derek grunted.

It felt so much like high school Stiles almost could laugh.

“If we don’t fight, we lose territory,” Derek said, simply.

Stiles tossed his pen down and scrubbed a hand through his hair, a habit he never quite outgrew and gnawed on his lip before he agreed, reluctantly.

But with the interlopers ranged in front of them and the people he loved behind him, Stiles could feel magic thrumming through him.

“I can fix this,” he murmured. “We don’t have to fight.”

Derek looked at him, his eyes wide and hopeful and he nodded once. “Do what you need to do.”

Stiles blinked and Derek nudged him into motion, a tiny smile on his face. “Go on. I trust you.”

 

*

 

It was easy being back, except when it wasn’t. The easy part was the pack, a core of wolves he knew and trusted, Kira and Scott and Isaac and even Jackson, when he wasn’t ready to strangle him.

Lydia was pack, but she’d been gone for longer than you, at this point, only coming home for a week a year, and spending almost all of that time locked in Derek’s study.

The pack was easy, when it was the adults, the wolves who had grown up with him. Even _Peter_ was easy, for fuck’s sake.

What was hard was the babies.

“When did this even start?” Stiles asked, and Derek shrugged. Lucy hung from his shoulders, shrieking in glee.

“We picked up James in Canada after Chris got word of an omega killing the local wildlife.” Derek glanced at the scowling teenager, a smile softening his expression. “And then Lucy and Henry came to us from a pack in Phoenix, after hunters swept through their territory.”

Henry glanced up at his name, content to play with his puzzle as Lucy bit at their Alpha’s neck, growling into it.

“And this little one?” Stiles said, glancing down at the faery changeling.

She looked human, if you didn’t know what to look for, if her mood was quiet and calm and her magic didn’t flare in response to her emotions.

She wasn’t.

Siobhan wasn’t even close to human.

“Got a call from a pack in Chicago that Laura knew. They heard we liked our magic strange and adopted strays.”

Stiles stared at her and the fae girl looked up at him. She looked two years old, but as he stared at her wide, curious eyes, he could see something ancient staring back.

“Derek,” he said, slowly. “If I fuck this up, I won’t bind her to a human glamour. I’ll bind her magic. Do you get that? I could _hurt_ her.”

And that thought made his heart pound, his palms sweaty because he figured it out quickly. Derek was _happy_ now, was content in the way that Stiles had always wanted for him. And these kids, the ones the that belonged to the Pack but that looked to _Derek_ as a father.

They were why. And Stiles couldn’t fuck that up.

“You won’t,” Derek said, answering the quiet panicked statement Stiles hadn’t meant to let out.

He stared at the girl, and said, miserably, “How do you know?”

Derek huffed a laugh and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Because I trust you, you idiot.”  

 

*

 

“Stiles, I’ve looked at four hundred shades of yellow and green. Just. Pick. One,” Derek growled, his eyes flashing and Stiles paused.

He did that now, stopped and thought about what he was doing. More when he was feeling uncertain than anything else, when he was questioning his place in the pack.

Derek’s eyes always went pinched and sad when Stiles went still, so he tried not to, when Derek was there.

“Dude, it’s your bookstore,” Stiles said, and Derek rubbed at his head.

“I know. I know it is. Which is why I gave very specific directions to the contractors about what I wanted.”

Stiles gave him a judgemental frown and Derek looked like he wanted to grin, but didn’t.

Smart werewolf, Stiles thought bitterly.

“You gave the exact fucking measurements for fifty bookcases. But you didn’t think you should pick a paint color?”

Derek flushed and shrugged. “Thought you’d want to.”

Stiles stared at him, hard. “Why the hell would you let me pick your _paint_ color. It’s not my bookstore!”

“It’s our bookstore,” Derek said absently and it knocks the wind right out of Stiles and whatever the hell he was about to say. He kind of gapes at Derek for a full ten seconds and then Derek glanced at him, one eyebrow raised in question and he snapped his gaze back to the paint chips.

They were all starting to look exactly the same, honestly.

“How do you know I won’t pick something you hate?” Stiles asked.

Derek huffed a laugh and kissed his cheek before tucking in his face into the dip between Stiles shoulders, a comfortable weight at Stiles back. “I trust you,” he mumbled, a familiar promise pressed into his plaid.

 

*

 

He had blood in his eyes and Derek slumped, bleeding at his feet and the harpy was snarling, fury and threats and iron.

Distantly, he could hear Scott’s roar, could feel the lightning from Kira and Liam’s furious howls. At the back of his mind, where he hid all of the pack bonds, the children were terrified and hiding and Stiles touched Derek’s jaw, a light caress.

“Stay here.”

“Stiles,” Derek slurred, and he could _feel_ the wolfsbane in the alpha’s blood, making his own pump quicker in fury.

“Derek, just--I’ll fix it. Ok. Stay here.”

He blinked, and Stiles took the precious few seconds to wait for the slow nod, and the familiar words.

“Ok, Stiles. I trust you.”

He kissed Derek, quick and soft, and then stood, magic pooling in his gut as he stepped over the mountain ash and the harpy screamed.

 

*

 

“You aren't supposed to be in here,” he said, rolling to smile up at Derek. He shifted to the side and Derek settled next to him, wordlessly.

He was very sure his dad would throw Derek out if he caught him in Stiles bed tonight of all nights, after all the months of preparation.

“Couldn't sleep,” Derek said, tugging Stiles into his arms. He inhaled, the familiar scent of magic and pack and den rolling off the druid.

“Are you nervous?”

“What?” Derek blinked at him. “Of course not, Stiles, I trust you.”

“Yeah but this is a big deal. I mean. It--you,” Stiles stumbled to a stop and then, in a rush, “You don't have to do this. We can find another ritual that will bind me to the pack.”

Derek sighed, sleepy and petulant. “I'm not doing it to bind you to the pack, Stiles. I want this. We both do.”

“I love you,” Stiles said, almost desperately and Derek nodded.

“I know. I--you know I loved before you. Paige. Kate. Jennifer. I loved each of them, even when it was fucked up. And they all left me ruined. But Stiles,” he tilted Stiles chin up and kissed him gently, a promise. “I _trust_ you. And that's bigger than love.”

Stiles stared at him and thought of the times, the hundreds Derek said that, over things ridiculous and forgettable and life-changing and he smiled. Leaned in and kissed the older man. “What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked and Derek grinned.

“Cuz,” Stiles said, smirked, caught Derek’s hand and rubbed at the ring there. “I was thinking about how we should get married.”

Derek rolled his eyes and pulled Stiles into a kiss, and Stiles grinned into it, basking in his love and trust that they could build a whole life on.

“Go to sleep, Stiles,” Derek murmured and he hummed happily.

“Gonna marry you so hard,” he mumbled back and fell asleep to the sound of Derek laughing.

**Author's Note:**

> There's a second chapter to this, but it made sense to break them up because this led to them getting together.  
> Chapter 2 will about them being together. <3


End file.
